


Great Beasts of the Mind & Heart

by A_Z_Knight



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Poetry, Creative License, I Don't Even Know, Johnny Storm IS always a bottom but that's not in this fic, M/M, Metaphors, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Beta Read, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter Parker/Johnny Storm - Freeform, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, canon compliant but that's not obvious at all, intertnalized homophobia but he represses that too, spideytorch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 08:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21176378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Z_Knight/pseuds/A_Z_Knight
Summary: "Johnny was on fire.He burned and burned.Sixteen and angry he burned.He burned with the smoke and destruction before him. His body blazed.A danseur had done his dance before him and he found himself viciously jealous, but he hated himself more for the part of him that longed to dance with the construct before him. Longed to touch it.He yearned.Sixteen and angry he yearned.He yearned for a boy."Really just an attempt at a nebulous writing style, whether or not that works you be the judge. It doesn't necessarily have a plot since it's not /really/ prose.





	Great Beasts of the Mind & Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, this fic is more of an experiment than anything else so if it is trash feel free to say that but don't think this is all of my writing ability summed up :)  
it's really not written as prose, and henceforth doesn't follow an exact line of plot but hey, maybe you like poetry, I have no clue. This is my first fic being posted. I'm happy to listen to critiques and comments but even if you're going to hurt my feelings try to be constructive so that I can at least improve afterwards. 
> 
> un-betaed
> 
> pwease forgive me for this sin

_ Johnny was on fire _ . 

He burned and burned.

Sixteen and angry he burned. 

He burned with the smoke and destruction before him. His body blazed.

A danseur had done his dance before him and he found himself viciously jealous, but he hated himself more for the part of him that longed to dance with the construct before him. Longed to touch it. 

He yearned.

Sixteen and angry he yearned.

He yearned for a  _ boy _ . 

He yearned for the dancer who had with such grace claimed his thoughts. 

He swore over and over and up and down and side to side that jealousy was all it was. 

He’d never admire someone who’d set him ablaze.

He lied and he lied.

And then  _ his _ dancer, frail and delicate - _ smoke _ \- had wept; an elegant swan at his feet.

And Johnny was breathless, giving himself without question, without request.

And then Johnny had watched the way Peter Parker moved. Clumsy and stupid and staring and in awe. 

But Johnny was always a step behind Peter Parker, his stumbling calf. And Johnny was always a jete behind his swan.

Even when they were next to each other, when they were breathing the same air. 

And Johnny had yearned, burnt up to ash and dust as he watched them both. 

Jealously. He swore.

Jealously. Annoyance. Anger. 

Johnny had found his place in the heart of his swan...sometime later. And his swan’s heart was warm and protective. 

Johnny had hated himself, yearned for solace, when he had gotten the chance to tear Peter Parker a new asshole and he didn’t. Didn’t even when the bastard tarnished the swan’s wings. 

Felt sick with himself when his mind had made up excuses. Made up stories.

And then- then- 

His breathing had faltered and his legs had shattered when he heard the utterance.

Odette had spun right into Peter Parker, crashed and threshed, wings spread and strained with each word. 

Oh, his calf, his calf and his swan were one gentle soul. One kind spirit. And he’d have to be content with just a corner of this great beast’s heart. 

And he began to Understand. When Peter Parker tiptoed and swerved under trays and social interactions and other cameras. When the swan faltered and trumpeted when his beautiful body became too much to handle, his wings too big. 

Yes, he saw.

And he held, he held for hours, for days, for months. 

For years.

He held his corner. Clutched with desperation to the silk below him. 

And he’d torn the fibers into shreds when he’d been pulled. When he would look at both his beauties, at his great beast, and see nothing. When he would get the same empty look back.

It was on the tip of his tongue.

Something was wrong. But whatever it was had been  _ stolen  _ from him.

He felt nothing but wistful, like he was looking at a place he’d never been but had still called home. when Peter Parker danced onto the scene with camera and doe eyes and klutzy calf legs. And he had swore under his breath when Spider-Man appeared. With both he found his heart ached for a man he didn’t even know. For a man whose face seemed so far away. And then, then, he had met his beautiful beast again, he found it still arms length away. 

He’d always be arms length away. Fingers reaching for feather and fur he’d never meet. 

No matter how hard he loved, and prayed and begged and screamed and cried. 

Somethings, some majestic things would make only a corner for the worldly. Make only as much space as was needed to think of Johnny Storm. And that alone should be enough.

The smiles he earned, the pointés he’d viewed. The air he’d shared. 

Something soft and pure and woven in gold had loved him, even if it wasn’t the way he’d longed for. And he was....dirty for his ungratefulness.

But his corner was squeezing his heart.

The corner he had earned- god- if he had stolen that heart, that heart too big all for himself it still wouldn’t be enough! 

Nothing would ever be enough to save him from burning up the way he had since sixteen.

But, he’d do anything for the corner he held. He’d do unspeakable things for his claim. 

He’d bear the pain. The poison in his veins when they grazed each other, when their eyes met, when their dances fit together.

His great beast, of size and might and kindness and heart and mind and spirit, a single corner of that mind, that soul, that heart, would never fulfill his all consuming quest for it. But it would cradle in its wings, resemblant of its owners, the whole of Johnny’s heart.


End file.
